Green Day, Black Night
by SMKLegacy
Summary: Grissom deals with the women in his life. Response to the 5-23 Unbound Improv Challenge; follows “You Can’t Live With Them” and “Alpha Male”.


**Green Day, Black Night**

TEASER: Grissom deals with the women in his life. Response to the 5-23 Unbound Improv Challenge; follows "You Can't Live With Them" and "Alpha Male".

RATING:M for language and implied sexual activity

SPOILERS: Season 5 through "Iced" because I'm saving the season finale for this weekend and a four pack of fuzzy navel wine coolers. This is set in October 2005.

DISCLAIMERS: Just for fun – no remuneration involved, just my gratitude to the creative geniuses who write and enact such terrific scripts.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reviews appreciated, archived at my site, and no, I really haven't seen the season finale yet. First and last lines given, 1000 word limit for the story itself; according to MS Word 2003, I made it with 24 words to spare.

**CSI CSI CSI**

_It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. _Grissom gritted his teeth and shot a "death to womankind" look toward Catherine and Sara before he spoke to Lindsey. "Okay, Lindsey, ready to go?"

Lindsey hopped up and down and pumped her arms, too hyped up to speak.

"I think that's a yes, Gris." Sara still called him that or Grissom in public, which was a good thing considering how often "Gil" came out as a multisyllabic ululation at the peak of her many orgasms.

"I agree." Catherine's blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

Catherine had a night at home with Warrick while he had a night at an earsplitting concert with the woman he planned to propose to at Thanksgiving and the only niece he would ever have, erstwhile though she be. "I'll have the time of my life."

"Better get a move on, Grissom."

Lindsey stopped jumping long enough to spout, "Yeah, Uncle Gil. We can't be late for Green Day!"

"Easy for you to say. You won't be the oldest person there," he muttered.

Sara heard him. "Get used to it, Gris."

He pursed his lips but nodded. Just this past weekend, they had decided that they wanted to have at least one child and would start trying once she finished her birth control refills on New Year's Eve. Hence his decision to propose at Thanksgiving in hopes of convincing her to have a New Year's Day wedding. If he survived this damned concert.

"Let's go, then. The diner for breakfast at 9 in the morning, right, Catherine?"

"Absolutely." She walked them to the door and opened it to reveal Warrick with his hand on his key. "Thanks, Grissom. Thanks, Sara. This is . . . well, very special."

"You're welcome, Cath. And don't worry. I put a spending cap on the souvenirs tonight."

Catherine laughed. He shrugged. Yeah, he spoiled Lindsey – witness the tickets to the concert to begin with – but did Sara really have to confiscate his credit cards and all but $100 of his cash before they left home? He still had a t-shirts from each of the few concerts he attended as a teenager, including a "Dark Side of the Moon" shirt from the 1973-74 Pink Floyd tour and a Rolling Stones "Tour of the Americas" shirt from the Cow Palace in San Francisco in 1975. How could he attend a concert without buying the t-shirt for Lindsey, Sara, and himself?

"Women just don't get it, do they, Gris?" Warrick smiled in commiseration. Of all the staff at the lab, he had been the most appreciative of Grissom's collection at the party Sara cajoled him into having when they were settled in their new house.

"Uncle Gil, let's go!" Lindsey called from the driveway.

He squared his shoulders and did what he thought was a fair imitation of a march toward his doom.

The entire way to the Thomas & Mack Center, Lindsey burbled with pre-teen gossip, from the latest on some singer named Aaron Carter to the scoop on a "totally hot dude" named Jesse McSomebody-or-another. Sara held her own, offering a tidbit or two along the way. At least he understood the things Sara said, which connected Lindsey's generation of stars to the ones she grew up with – and with whom he had become acquainted since they started dating.

The throng at the T&M Center ebbed and flowed around the many doors, but Grissom had gotten front row center VIP tickets with reserved parking and a separate entrance away from the masses. He knew Lindsey would be thrilled, but he wasn't so sure about Sara.

A few minutes later, Sara raised her eyebrows at him and mouthed "sucker" as Lindsey screamed with joy and threw herself into his arms. He smiled up at Sara from over Lindsey's shoulder. He wanted that same reaction from Sara when he proposed.

Grissom walked his "girls" into the arena, an arm around each of them, and counted himself a lucky man for the company, if not for the venue. They got popcorn, soda, and t-shirts for a total of $98.96, then found their seats. Sara sat in the middle. Thankfully for his sanity, Sara kept Lindsey occupied as they shared observations over the popcorn, allowing him to put in his earplugs without Lindsey knowing.

The music was still far too loud for his taste when the opening act came on, and later when Green Day started to sing selections from their _American Idiot_ album, he sat on his hands to keep from covering his ears. He had to admit that the music was technically good, but he didn't understand a word they sang until the third encore – and that only because Sara sang along.

"'Tattoos of memories and dead skin on trial. For what it's worth, it was worth all the while. I hope you had the time of your life. I hope you had the time of your life.'"

"'Dead skin on trial?' One reference to epithelials and you memorize a song?" he asked.

"It caught my attention when I first heard the song. It fits my life before 'this'." She squeezed the hand she'd been holding for most of the concert.

"How so?"

"Just the way things happened to put us together."

The song ended with prolonged applause. He escorted his ladies back to the car.

"I like that song, but I don't get it," Lindsey admitted with a yawn while he held her door open for her. "Mom says I will when I'm an old lady, like 35."

Grissom grunted to keep from laughing at Sara's expression. "How old do you think Sara is?"

"Oh, she's so cool she can't be more than like 26 or 27."

Sara stuck her tongue out at him. "And you call this stage of development the _Teenage wasteland," she grinned._

**--FIN--**


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